


An Unnecessary Sanders Sides Halloween (Christmas) Oneshot

by orphan_account



Series: Spectacular Sanders Sides Sketchy Scribbles [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ...i can’t believe I’m posting a Christmas fic on halloween, Because what a bomb movie amiright?, Gen, Inspired by the Nightmare Before Christmas, So yeah... kinda crap, and since i couldn’t finish goretober, basically this is just me drawing parallels between Jack and Virgil, because w h y n o t, but y’know it’s something and I certainly tried, happy halloween everyone!!!, i had to find something else to celebrate the spooky season with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 06:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “What's this? What's this? There's color everywhere….” Picking up one of the dirty mugs on the counter, he examined the brightly colored Lion King design on it before carefully setting it down in the empty sink. “What's this? There's light things in the air.” Pale fingers emerged from the oversized black sleeves of his hoodie to lightly brush across the fairy lights strung halfhazardly around the kitchen. “What's this? I can't believe my eyes, I must be dreaming... Wake up, Anx, this isn't fair…”





	An Unnecessary Sanders Sides Halloween (Christmas) Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a oneshot that I started writing on Halloween _last_ year, and then it was left to rot in my drafts literally untouched until now. And now, it’s lovingly yeeted out onto the internet after hastily finishing it off. Happy Halloween, everyone... even though this is literally centered around Christmas. 
> 
> Whatever. Thomas made a Christmas video about Halloween, so that means I can totally flip it around and call it good, right?

It was Christmas Day, the other Sides were all discussing the family party Thomas had to attend in a few hours, and Anxiety was standing in a hallway he had never been in, staring at a door that he was sure hadn’t been there before. 

Well, he couldn’t say that he was _ sure _ . Already, his mind was backtracking that thought, racing through the many possibilities of him simply not exploring this decrepit corner of the mindscape, or maybe just forgetting he had ever seen it, which was only serving to quicken his breath and fill his stomach with the usual feeling of muted dread he was already so acquainted with. Because if he couldn’t remember, or even worse, had _ overlooked _ this simple wooden door, then what else was he forgetting and overlooking? Even the smallest details forgotten could come back and hit him when he least expected it, or maybe Thomas, leaving either or both of them defenseless and unprepared. What was his purpose if he couldn’t protect their host? He already had to worry about the party the others were discussing, especially considering the fact that Deceit was even more active than usual, lies of ‘this is exactly what I wanted’ and ‘this is the perfect gift, I love it’ having had been snaking through Thomas’s mind all morning. Anxiety was worried that the lies would begin to seep into other things as well, ending them up in a tangle of lies that might end up hurting his family, or making them hate Thomas, and then the other Sides might want to exercise more control over Thomas, and… 

The taste of blood filled his mouth, and Anxiety realized that he had been worrying his lip harshly between his teeth, splitting it open. Quickly dabbing at his mouth with his sleeve, he tried to calm his breaths as he once again looked at the door in front of him. This stupid, simple door that he had somehow overlooked, even though it was his job to not overlook things. 

Though… he supposed it would be unfair to describe it as ‘simple.’’ Because it really wasn’t. In all actuality, it was one of the most intricate and beautifully mesmerising things he had ever seen in the mindscape (which made it all the worse, because he would have known if he had seen this door before, and what else was he forgetting…?)

He forced himself to focus back on the door before his mind dove back into that endless whirlwind of thoughts he had just been entertaining. 

It was a mix of colors, of shapes, of pictures, almost overwhelming in the best way. The wood was simple, like the doors that led to each of their rooms, but was carved with care, and painted in ways that made it seem more a work of art than merely a door.

Tentatively, Anxiety raised an arm, oversized black hoodie sleeve falling from his hand so his fingers could graze the surface of the wood. 

Fingers tracing the cartoonish heart done in thick lines of what looked like blue crayon, his eyes followed the train of cats and dogs looping around it. He followed them as the lead up to a simple engraving of glasses, a scrawled but still legible background of facts and equations leading down to a beautiful, fairy tale-esque scene, knights protecting a castle, which blended into the hills surrounding it, colors mixing into a sunset that surrounded…

The doorknob. A perfect round knob of polished gold without a single smudge or dent on it. 

It was an impulse, really. Sometimes, in the rush of what he was and what he had to do, it was hard to remember that, deep down, he still shared that same childlike wonder that they all had in common with Thomas. But before he could even process what he was doing, his hand was gripping the knob, and the door was swinging open with ease. 

A gust of warm air, a sudden rush of calm, and then he was rapidly blinking his eyes open to look at his surroundings. 

It was beautiful. That was the first thought about what he was seeing, and his eyes blinked owlishly as he stepped through the doorway into this previously unknown part of the mindscape. 

A familiar tune popped into his head as he looked around, still trying to process what was around him, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a rare half-smile. And then, almost as if he couldn’t hold it back, he began to softly sing. “What's this? What's this? There's color everywhere….” Picking up one of the dirty mugs on the counter, he examined the brightly colored Lion King design on it before carefully settingch it down in the empty sink. “What's this? There's light things in the air.” Pale fingers emerged from the oversized black sleeves of his hoodie to lightly brush across the fairy lights strung halfhazardly around the kitchen. What's this? I can't believe my eyes, I must be dreaming, Wake up, Anx, this isn't fair…” And then a colorfully wrapped box sitting in the doorway caught his eye, and he was stumbling over himself to kneel next to it, prodding it gently while admiring the off-centered golden bow atop it in awe. “What's this?”

Nothing was jumping out to scare him. Nobody was tugging him this way and that, trying to get him to do the job that he would do anyways _if you just let him have a second to breathe._ None of Remus’s half-made creations oozed up the walls, and none of Deceit’s loose lies had manifested and slithered under his feet.

For once, Anxiety felt... safe.

“The monsters are all missing, and the nightmares can't be found!” Anxiety said softly, eyes shining in the light as he stood once more, reluctantly leaving the present to see the rest of the area. A table with three places was set in the dim light, and beyond that, the comfiest looking couch Anxiety had ever seen, set in front of a television, and.... He climbed up onto the nearest chair to get a proper look, jaw dropping slightly as he saw the absolutely massive pile of presents stacked next to the couch. 

”And in their place there seems to be good feeling all around!” He hopped from chair to chair, spindly legs shaking slightly as he steadied himself from falling at the very last one. A small grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he clambered onto the table strewn with wrapping paper and ribbons, spinning in a slow circle to take in the sights around him. 

And then Anxiety was laughing, honest giggles spilling from his mouth as he jumped off of the table, hitting the ground with a small thud. He slipped over the back of the couch and onto the clean, comfy cushions, sighing in contentment as he leaned back into the comfiness. A messily knitted blanket depicting a pattern of Christmas trees slipped from the back of the couch and caught on his shoulders, and he smiled even wider as he snuggled into the warmth. 

“The sights, the sounds!” he practically cheered as he stood up again, unable to stay still when there was a radio crooning Christmas carols in the corner by the Christmas tree, an actual _ real life _Christmas tree! Anxiety could even catch the whiff of pure pine emanating from it, so unlike the miserable attempts that Remus had tried to pass off to the others during the holiday season. “They're everywhere and all around! I've never felt this good before!” He poked and prodded at the bristly green branches, unable to keep the smile off of his face as no bugs or tentacles appeared from the depths to try and ‘give him a hug.’ 

“This empty place inside of me is filling up!” Anxiety continued singing as he finally pulled himself away from the awe of the Christmas tree, instead turning to the half-wrapped stack of presents sitting right beside it. Each gift seemed so… _ genuine _ , that he couldn’t help but feel his eyes prickle with tears. He didn’t even know the Sides that lived in this part of the mindscape, but… as he looked from book to picture, from the obviously handmade card depicting a few stick figures holding hands to the neatly bundled paintbrushes and crayons… he could practically _ feel _a love emanating from the gifts. A snow globe sitting precariously on the edge of the table caught his eye, and he quickly nudged it out of harm’s way… and then didn’t let go. The scene inside was captivating: four smiling figures holding hands as the glittery snow fell around them, the one recognizable as Thomas seeming to look right at Anxiety. 

...Deceit tried, and Anxiety knew he did. But there was always something more important, something to be done for Thomas, and the needs of their boy took priority over everything else; Anxiety _ knew _ that. And on the few off times that there wasn’t a pressing emergency Thomas was facing that needed their input (which were very rare, but Anxiety treasured each and every time), Anxiety could even say the other was… thoughtful? Nice? Caring, he guessed? It was usually something small, like having Remus try and convince Thomas that listening to the new MCR album one more time would _ definitely _ spark his creativity on this new art project. Occasionally, he’d even summon something for the other, like the hoodie Anxiety was currently sporting. 

But actual holidays? There was no point to them celebrating them, according to Deceit. And Anxiety understood, he really did. They were just… well, figments of Thomas’s imagination, really. A therapeutic way for Thomas to subconsciously separate his main functions and work through problems from different angles. Their job was to be there for Thomas and nothing more. Celebrating holidays was selfish, pointless, and it just… never ended up happening. 

Remus, on the other hand, absolutely embraced the idea of holidays even despite Dee’s halfhearted complaints. Halloween was an absolute favorite (and it was Anxiety’s as well; even if the other’s gruesome creations did still freak him out a little, at least it fit in with the aesthetic of the holiday and could be expected), but every other holiday that Thomas celebrated, Remus celebrated alongside with his own flair thrown onto it. Anxiety’s personal favorite was the somehow-sentient roasted turkey for last year’s Thanksgiving that had followed Dee around the entire day. 

But Christmas… had never really interested Remus. There was only so much he could do, and he constantly whined every year that Christmas trees and wrapping paper was all too _ boring _for him to work with. That didn’t stop him from trying, however. 

But the presents of decapitated heads and rusty knickknacks always felt… icky. Even if it was Remus showing his… love wasn’t the right word, but maybe… _ tolerance _, for Anxiety, it still… it creeped him out, to say the least.

These presents were the opposite of that, full of laughter and throughtfullness and care and, and… and _ love _, and even that thought makes Anxiety’s heart throb for a second. 

“....I simply cannot get enough…” 

It hurt even worse when he realized that Dee had probably realized he was gone and, since some sort of issue that Thomas would face might need his help, the other would most likely be looking for him. He had to go back. He had to leave this place, and go back to the darker parts of Thomas’s mind that he hadn’t even realized _ were _ darker until compared to the light and warmth emanating from this side, and… and… 

But… he didn’t have to go back, did he? After all, the door hadn’t been locked. Nobody had told him to get out, though, to be fair, he hadn’t seen much of anybody yet. And… he could do his job from this side, couldn’t he? He still felt a connection to Thomas… he could… he could stay here and… 

His voice dropped to a whisper as he looked into the snowglobe, and when he opened his mouth, his voice came out as a strangled whisper. “I want it, oh, I want it… Oh, I want it for my own. I've got to know, I've got to know… what is this place that I have found?”

And then an angry voice boomed behind him, causing him to jerk backwards, hip hitting against the coffee table hard enough to ensure that there would be a bruise. 

“What. Is. This?” Another Side took another step closer to him, grabbing the snow globe from Anxiety’s hands and holding it close to his chest. “Who are you, and what do you think gives you the right to just prance in here and…” His free hand waved around as he sputtered for the words he was looking for. “...defile our property?”

“I… I just, I was-” Anxiety stuttered, stumbling back from the other. 

The light fell across the other Side’s face, and instantly, Anxiety’s heart dropped. Because this was _ Remus, _though it looked like he had finally scrubbed off that ridiculous mustache he had scrawled under his nose in permanent marker last week, much to Dee’s utter annoyance. And it even looked like he had gone the opposite of his usual color, donning a Christmasy red sash instead of the putrid green one…

But the other Side’s suit, although grass-stained at the knees like Remus, was white instead of black, and there was no strand of messy hair that was colored differently, and…

The look in not-Remus’s eyes was filled with so much more determination than dark creativity could ever hold as he pointed an accusatory finger at Anxiety, the the signature slime-coated, foam morningstar that Remus always carried around nowhere to be seen. 

“You were just what?” the other’s voice replied forcefully, taking another step closer. In almost a mirrored motion, Anxiety took a step backwards. 

“I-“

“Creativity, what is going on?” a more refined voice called from behind the other, and Anxiety glanced at the doorway behind him to see another side, this one wearing glasses and wearing a dark blue polo and a bow tie. He stood protectivly in front of another glasses-adorned figure who was fiddling with his jacket sleeves, large eyes peering curiously over the others shoulder. 

“Yeah C, who’s that?” the one behind him asked excitedly, taking a step closer to the others, only to be tugged back by the other. 

“Morality, stay back,” the prince ordered, not taking his eyes off of Anxiety for even a second. “I don’t know who or _ what _ he is. But he was messing with our stuff, so I don’t think we can trust him!”

“Creativity, please, calm yourself-” the tie-wearing side tried to tell the other, but he was quickly cut off. 

“Shut it, Logic!” Creativity screeched. “What if he is a Side to harm Thomas’s mind? Or worse, not a Side at all? A monster come to dispose of us and take Thomas for himself! I won’t stand for it!” A shape appeared in Creativity’s hand, poised to strike, and Anxiety immediately cringed back. “I will stop at nothing to keep Thomas sa-“

There’s a beat of silence. Then another, and Anxiety cracked over an eye to see what the hold up was, only to see Creativity staring in horror at the foam sword in his hand.

“Logic, where is my sword!” Creativity demanded with a screech, throwing the foam prop to the side as he whirled around to face the other. 

Logic looked fearful at being the focus of the other’s anger, but he quickly stuttered out a level response. “After you hurt Morality last week while playing pretend, I just… I thought it would be better if I replaced your usual weapon with a...a less harmful substitute. Please don’t be mad at me, I…” Adjusting his bowtie, he looked nervously at the other before his features morphed once again into a calm, emotionless expression. “I am doing what is best for Thomas, since you clearly have no regard whatsoever for our host.”

“It was an accident! And Mo already said it was his fault anyway for getting in my way!”

“You think it was _ Morality’s _ fault?” Logic spat back, fury breaking through his calm facade. “I realized your ego has remained unchecked for far too long, but if you can't get it through your thick skull that sometimes _ you _ are the one at fault, I-“

“Fellas, I think the biggest thing to focus on is the new guy!” Morality piped up, sounding almost too cheerful for the situation. “All we need is a little calm, maybe a few hugs, and a nice explanation to sort this out and we’ll all be hunky-dory!” As soon as the others didn’t look like they were at eachother’s throats, Morality turned to look towards where Anxiety had been standing. “So, buddy, why-“

Morality was talking to air. 

A beat of silence, then two, before Creativity burst into cruel laughter. “See, Mo? I told you he was up to no good. Someone with nothing to hide wouldn’t run off at the first sight of danger!”

If Anxiety had heard that, he probably would’ve felt his heart sink even lower than it already was. But he didn’t. By the time the other had said that, Anxiety was silently stepping back through the door which he had entered through, body shaking and face tracked with tears. 

* * *

Anxiety had moved his room to the other side of the mindscape when Thomas had turned 16. Too many fights with Dee, too many fallouts with Remus… the ‘Light’ Sides didn’t really approve of him moving, but nobody other than Princey tried too hard to get him to leave once they realized that he mostly just stayed in the room he had claimed as his own. He could get his work done easier here… even if the warmth that he now lived in wasn’t as strong as the feeling he had felt that first night he had stumbled upon this place. 

But he didn’t have time to think about that particularly troubling thought. Thomas was 17 now! There was so much more to worry about, so many social commitments, so many things he had to get done for his future. And yet, here they were. Only Logic seemed to care about Thomas’s future, being the only other one to constantly be pushing the others towards studies and figuring out plans for the next couple of years. 

Morality and Creativity really tried, and both Anxiety and Logic knew that they did. But it was hard to remember that when they blatantly just.. didn’t seem to care. They both had unrealistic expectations and short term goals, as well as participated in activities not helpful in any way to Thomas almost every single day! Whether it be jaunts into the Imagination, or movie nights spent cuddled on the couch in what Morality had dictated the ‘Commons’ of the mindscape, there always seemed to be some sort of fun activity planned for the day. 

“_ But why are these daydreams necessary? _” Logic had finally spoken one day as Creativity and Morality stumbled out of the Imagination, laughing and grinning at one another. Anxiety had just so happened to be tucked into a darker corner of the Commons and, once he had heard the question he had wanted to ask for so long be brought to light, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. 

“_ Well… Thomas can’t work himself to the ground every day, kiddo!” _ Morality had replied chipperly. “ _ Daydreams help him relax a little, focus more on the fun of life, make sure he doesn’t overwork himself…” _

_ “And we have a blast as well!” _ Creativity chimed in. Both he and Morality high fived, giggling once more.

Logic didn’t sound amused. “_ But how does this help Thomas with his studies? His homework? His social standing? His-” _

“_ Not everything has to have that kind of purpose, Lo, _ ” Morality had said quietly. “ _ Sometimes… it’s good to just have fun. To enjoy life.” _

Anxiety still didn’t know what he had meant. And, he didn’t really think Logic had, either. He continued on with his working towards Thomas’s wellbeing, and Mo and Crea continued working towards Thomas having fun. And yet, he was still labeled as the one who _ wasn’t _ helping Thomas. Useless. Overbearing. Harmful. They took the role of helping Thomas completely on their shoulders, and then didn’t even make it their sole purpose in life! Christmases were fun and all, but… 

“But why should they have all the ‘fun?’ Thomas should be helped by everyone!” Anxiety found himself muttering along to the tapping of his pencil on the desk. Though he was loathe to admit it, despite his constant complaints of Creativity bursting into song every other moment, his own dramatic nature sometimes led him to act in a like manner. Especially when the lyrics of one of his favorite movies just perfectly fit his situation. “Not anyone, in fact, but me. Why, I could make him safe with glee! And there's no reason I can find, that I couldn't handle Thomas’s mind…”

His mouth quickly clamped shut as footsteps ran past his room, Morality’s laughter chasing Creativity’s boisterous shoutings as the noise slowly died away. Judging by the lack of discipline shouting following the noise, it looked like all the stress had finally gotten to Logic. 

And then, almost as an afterthought, Anxiety ducked his head, tapping his pencil against the desk again as he stared at the list in front of him. “I bet I could improve him, too,” he mumbled under his breath. Turning to a fresh page, he began to scribble down his ideas furiously.

“And that's exactly what I'll do…”

He had his ideas. He had ways, real ways to keep Thomas safe, to keep Thomas happy. All he had to do was find a way to get them through to the others….

* * *

He put the posters up a few years later. He would claim that it was merely because he enjoyed the movie, or at least he would if anyone even bothered to ask, because really, he still did enjoy it. But nobody asked, and he never bothered to explain.

  
Because more than a poster of an amazing movie, it was a reminder. 

“What have I done?” he simply muttered to himself as his eyes flitted around the room, always seeming to come back to the Jack and Sally posters hung on the wall. 

It had taken years… Far too long, if you asked Anxiety, to realize that the words that Creativity spat at him might actually be true. That the things that Thomas told him were a sign that he should stop trying. That while he had been trying his whole life to just keep Thomas safe… in reality, he was just causing Thomas harm. 

“But I never intended all this madness, never…” he began to sing quietly again, even though he knew, he _ knew _ it was stupid to keep doing this. He wasn’t Roman (because _ that _ was the other’s name now, because he had gotten on such a close level with Thomas that something as precious as a name could be _ shared _); he wasn’t obligated to burst out in song every time his situation allowed it, but… still… comparing his own situation to ones in the stories he enjoyed helped lessen the sting, at least a little. 

“And nobody really understood, how could they? That all I ever wanted was…” His voice choked off, and he roughly rubbed at his eyes before looking at the brushed-oak door of his room. 

  
It wasn’t necessary, really. The door didn’t really have to lead anywhere; after all, it was Thomas’s mind. Being parts of his personality in a mindscape like this meant that the Sides usually just rose in and out of the different levels dictating their part of their host. So… why was it so hard to do this, as a symbol of what he was really scared of doing?

Because, no, Anxiety wasn’t scared of finally making the door disappear as he should’ve done so long ago. That would just be a symbolic gesture to show the physical importance of what he was about to do. 

“Why does nothing ever-” His voice cracked slightly, but he just took another breath and continued in an unsteady voice. “...Why does nothing ever turn out like it should?” 

His feet found their way towards the entrance, and his trembling fingers trailed over the smooth wood one more time. 

After all, he should’ve known forever ago, when he first found his way to the ‘light’ Sides’ area of the mindscape. If he was Jack in that situation even back then, well… that should've been a good a sign as any of what was to happen. Jack Skellington had tried so hard to be a part of the Christmas season, and yet had nearly destroyed it before realizing the damage he had caused. 

  
And Anxiety knew. He knew how his story was supposed to end. Just like Jack, he was going to have to learn to love his place, to go back to being the ‘Pumpkin King’ of Thomas’s mind. 

  
To go back to being a Dark Side.

  
And maybe this meant that he was weaker than Jack. That he didn’t have the willpower to man up and just fall back into the role of the villain everyone had already cast him as. 

“I am,” he whispered to himself. “I am weak…” 

And then he closed his eyes, willing it away, and the door disappeared as he finally disconnected his presence from Thomas. The pressure in his heart built, but he let out a breath of relief as he felt the connection between him and his host flicker, and then disappear completely. 

  
He had finally done what the others had wanted for years and ducked out. 

* * *

_ “Find a deep cave to hide in _

_ In time they'll realize my propriety _

_ To find me only dust and a plaque _

_ That reads, ‘here lies-“ _

  


“...Anxiety?”


End file.
